


No Tracks

by courierhawk



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Southern Water Tribe, Spirits, some mystery, water tribe fam, when an idea gets away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 23:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13064682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courierhawk/pseuds/courierhawk
Summary: Something dark flowed in the blood of the South, something stalked their footsteps in the night. AU. Water Tribe centric.





	No Tracks

_Long ago, the North splintered from their southern brethren._

_Those who had once traded and traveled freely between one another were suddenly cut off, all by their own design. But it wasn’t merely politics and personal grudges that separated them, but something more._

_An inescapable, nameless fear that pervaded them. Something dark flowed in the blood of the South, something stalked their footsteps in the night. People vanished without explanation and never returned, one by one, during a hunt or merely tucked away in their homes in the night. Those most alone were always at the most risk. Screaming winds and snow would cover any traces of who or what stole them away, and few nights later, the victim’s clothes would be found within sight of the village, empty of the ones who had worn them. Never more than a few in a period of time, but the numbers added up over the days._

_The disappearances were too much to tolerate, even after what caused them finally ended, and the Northerners cut ties with their cousins and secluded themselves far away in their own pole._

_Fear drove them in the pit of their guts, a darkness unexplained casting them away._

_The Fire Nation attacks stole away attention on the disappearances, and by the time the worst had ended, so had the mysterious huntings. The villagers accepted the change, chose not to question it when they had never found out the truth before. Not long after the knowledge faded, and fell out of remembrance._

_Only within the past decade have the disappearances resumed._

_The village Chief’s wife, a beautiful and loyal woman named Kya, was gone from her bed in the night. Her hurt and desperate husband, Hakoda, searched for evidence to her survival well into the next day, in spite of the howling blizzard amid a black sky that destroyed any possibility of tracks. He returned home broken-hearted, unable to answer the cries of his children or mother’s attempts at comfort. No one saw her go, or what took her, and nothing of hers was ever found._

_It was as if she had simply ceased to exist._

_That was the start. Years after that night, the disappearances began again. Fewer in number to the original hunts, though the people of the South, without records of the old tragedies, had no way of knowing this. Across different villages, the losses were scattered, distant, but no less important._

_The only protection they had would be to stick together._

_However long that lasted._

* * *

-

The Southern regions were a harsh and unforgiving landscape, made all the harsher by the scars of war and ancient pains.

But it was here that one family uncovered the wild’s most frightening secret.

Sokka and Katara were the two children of the village Chief, and only ones deemed responsible and old enough to venture outside of the village together, and only under a strict oath from their father to “always stay together no matter what.” While the younger children remained bundled up in their homes, always under the watchful eye of their elders. The threat of their unknown hunter spiriting them away in the night was almost like a fairytale fear drilled into the heads of the children to stop them from misbehaving.

But to the siblings, it was no mere story.

Losing a family member drew the warning into sharp relief, knowing how easily someone else to fall to the same fate as their mother. Suffer the same tragedy.

Katara was filled with hurt and pain by the loss, but she had no solution. Her father’s words to use caution were the only things available to her. But her brother was different, Sokka was wanted to solve the disappearances, and catch the perpetrator. The major reason why Katara sided with him in spite of the elders’ concerns and the constant reminders not to antagonize whatever was out there was her old pain, the longing for justice that burned in her heart.

However, Sokka wasn’t doing this for personal reasons; as upsetting as it was to admit (and he didn’t, the admission stayed silent in his head, not to be spoken aloud) the young boy no longer remembered much about his mother. Years had passed and he was just verging on his fifteenth birthday, so the memories started to fade in his mind. (But then, everyone processed grief differently, and Sokka wouldn’t admit to himself that he could have blocked those memories out and face that guilt.)

His mother couldn’t be his primary motivation then, so the young warrior stated that he wanted to prevent anyone else from experiencing that, and to protect his sister. And through that, put a real and final end to the deaths himself.

He laid traps in the snow outside the village gates, squinting out into the falling snow to catch a glimpse of anyone stalking the perimeter, while his sister watched him work over his shoulder. Mittens dug into the snow to pull back the latch on the trap’s bony jaws and afix them in place, a nasty surprise for anyone who managed to step into one unprepared.

A warrior of the Southern Water Tribe would recognize it, but an animal or outsider would never see it coming. Sokka shook his head; he needed something more than this. If only there was more evidence left behind from the scene.

“Ah?” Katara’s gasp of surprise brought his attention back in an instant.

“What? What happened?” He straightened, and seeing her staring into the distance, tried to follow her gaze. There was nothing that he could see, just more falling flakes and a dark sky. “Did you see something?”

She looked uncertain, “I don’t know. I thought it was movement, but it was so dark…” Katara trailed off, shaking her head and stepping away when no other presence managed to make itself known, “We should head back home. It’s already late enough as it is. C’mon, Gran-Gran must already have dinner ready for us.”

It was dark. He couldn’t exactly argue with that. And the rising wind and changing pressure in the air hinted at an approaching snowstorm. “Yeah, sure, I guess I have to stop here for today,” Sokka admitted, and his stomach mirrored the statement at the thought of food. He took one more insistent jerk on his arm by Katara before breaking into a run beside her, making tracks back to the village proper where their grandmother awaited them.

_But somewhere in the dark, something watched them._

_Its eyes settled on the children’s faces, their deep blue eyes, body churning with a deep, primal instinct. But it would have to wait._

_Silently._

_Patiently._

_Waiting for the right moment to move._

* * *

For three days and nights, Sokka’s traps went untouched, and in all that time nothing changed.

They hunted and fished as normal, helped prepare nets and patch jobs for others in the community, and generally made themselves helpful. Sokka managed not to compulsively return to check his traps too often, but it was a very near thing, brought on by a sense of paranoia that he would nail the perpetrator, only for them to escape the snares by the time he returned.

On the fourth morning, Sokka woke from his messy cot exhausted as though he’d barely slept at all. He’d been tired a lot lately and wasn’t really sure why, but chalked it up increased workload around the village.

Things just got worse with every life lost.

He shook off the sleepiness and getting dressed to join a bleary-eyed Katara near shore to tend to his blades while she practiced bending. He never thought particularly highly of her “magical gift” and had no issue telling her so, normally. Today though, a bad feeling, an instinct more like, made him wary of trouble on the way. So he couldn’t be bothered with it this time.

It took time for him to find the source of his worries.

Sokka and Katara got started with the daily chores, his sister fixed a patch job on a family tent while he worked on repairing some of the snow wall that collapsed outward, together they hunted up some fish to help their grandmother prepare for lunch. Like always, it was a simple yet comfortable affair. It wasn’t until the three of them had set the dishes and sat down to eat that something finally managed to go wrong.

A cacophony of panicked shouting brought them to their feet, Sokka drawing the closest weapon at hand, his hunting knife, and rushing out the flap. The other two followed right behind, with Gran-Gran struggling to keep up with his pace.

When the source of the voices was one of the older women of the village, with a younger girl desperately trying to calm her down, Sokka stopped and awkwardly slipped his blade away. Instead Katara stepped up in his place, “Did something happen? Was someone hurt?”

“It’s my husband, my Koto!” She cried, eyes darting about wildly, “he’s completely vanished!”

The siblings straightened up in shock. Old Koto, one of the few men remaining in their home, had been spared the rigors of war due to age and disability. Unable to even do as much work as the Water Tribe’s women and children due to his almost unusable right leg, it was impossible for the man to leave except through someone else’s effort. Basically, the old man couldn’t disappear unless someone had taken him.

Their stalking beast had struck again. Snatched someone right out of their own home at that.

While Katara their grandmother lent their aid in attempting to soothe the woman who was likely about to be marked a widow, Sokka swallowed down a surge of anger and dashed out to check on his traps. He had been warned to stick together, but sky was bright at high noon and the air was calm and clear of falling snow. He felt safe this time.

But his concern over his placements were in vain. They had snared nothing.

A fresh layer of snow from the previous night’s storm had disturbed them only somewhat, tipping the contraptions onto uneven positions, but they all still lay unsprung.

Sokka felt uneasy.

Untouched traps and another victim.

A touch of paranoia seeped into his thoughts. Katara thought she had seen something that night, before they turned back for home, what if she did? What if whatever was out there had seen what he’d built and learned to avoid them? He looked up, staring into the distance and seeing nothing. But despite the empty horizon, Sokka still felt like he was being watched. Something was out there, something that was sending waves of unpleasant chills down his spine. Some unwanted instinct urged him to run out to it, confront it face to face, which Sokka forcefully pushed down and suppressed.

Other people in the community had thought their hunter some form of spirit that haunted them, which was why there were no prints, but Sokka thought differently. Whatever or whoever was attacking them was intelligent and thinking, and it fed, leaving behind the clothes of its victims a few nights after every kill. (And now, harmless old Koto was likely never coming home; Sokka may have complained about his rambling stories before, but he never thought the elder would be harmed…)

This was no spirit, and it was smart enough to avoid him.

Not for long though. He was going to build more traps if he needed to (and give them something to chew on), track this monster down, and put an end to it. Sokka marched back to the village with his fingers curled into tight fists. It was his responsibility to protect his home, and something had to be done, before it was too late for them.

For the next few days, they worked. Sokka managed to produce more defenses, despite how short-handed he was, then caved and asked Katara to help him fortify the wall with him. Weird or not, her bending could strengthen the packed snow into ice much faster and stronger than he could with his hands, (not that he was about to tell her that). Gran-Gran was worried, trying to warn them off, trying to protect them from getting too closely involved.

But it wasn’t as though they had a choice. If the disappearances kept continuing, sooner or later there wouldn’t be any one of them left to be able to protect.

Katara was more fiercely on her brother’s side than ever before; the most recent loss had shocked her more than she like to admit. A man who was infirm, unable to leave even if he wanted to and… It was horrible to think about.

But when the third day passed, they finally found what was left behind from the attack.

More snow left on their home, part of the wall had collapsed out again, and the old man’s coat was found on the outskirts, just like every other victim before.

But the manner in which they were found was unnervingly new.

Koto’s blue Water Tribe furs were shredded, balled up, and forcefully wedged into one of Sokka’s carefully laid traps. The bony teeth he’d crafted pressed deeply into the ruined bundle, and nowhere was this more apparent that this was a message. Whatever this thing’s identity was, it had definitely known about the traps, and now was using them to call Sokka out specifically, almost as if it were mocking him.  

As if it  _wanted_  him to find it.

He just sat there for a moment, staring at them intensely, as though what was left behind could somehow help him find an answer.

Katara crouched next to him and laid her hand on his shoulder with as much support as she could manage. As much as his support pride and frustration could tolerate.

However they were in for another surprise later that day, when the sight of familiar sails crested the northern horizon, approaching on a quick breeze. Water Tribe boats that held warriors fit to bursting, having returned to their home after a long absence. The moment that the siblings saw them, they couldn’t contain the excitement of what such a sight meant, in spite of everything. They ran to the water’s edge as the ships pulled to shore and moored there, waiting in rapt attention for one man in particular to descend the gangplank.

Hakoda’s weary smiled stretched into genuity as he touched ground, immediately seized by his children and pulled into a fierce hug. They peppered him with questions, asking everything they could about where he’d been (too much for the man answer), already energized just from the brief time spent in his presence.

But sooner or later, the good things had to come to an end. Hakoda had been dragged back to his home, where they’d gotten him to sit down to a bowl of soup together to relax and better answer to their interrogations. Eventually though, when the excitement finally started to ease, Kanna decided to talk to him about the attacks.

“We lost another one of the elders today, Hakoda,” She intoned, stirring the remaining soup in her clay bowl quietly, and the easygoing expression on the man’s face immediately sobered. The kids glanced between the two of them, confused and tense. “I know we hoped it would never come to this, but something needs to be done about the hunts. I can’t hold back the people’s panic for much longer. Not after everything that’s happened.”

Some hidden meaning seemed to pass between them, before an unmistakably sad countenance settled over his face, “Yes…you’re right. This does need to end.”

Thinking that his father had decided to hunt down the beast, Sokka jumped to his feet. “Dad, if you’re going after that thing, let me help!” Glossing over his sister’s and his Gran-Gran’s unhappy looks, he focused on his father, who was wearing that same painfully somber look that he’d had when Sokka was first left behind. “Please, I’ve been making traps and working on the wall!” (Katara interrupted to point out that she’d helped with that.)

Hakoda just looked away. “I’d rather that neither of you children were involved with this,” He said sternly, “I know enough about…what is out there now to know how to deal with it.”

Sokka paused uncertainly, “But…you said that I was responsible for keeping them safe.”

“Yes, but not with this. This is something I have to handle. Please promise me you’ll stay safe.”

There was a few moments of hesitation but Sokka nodded slowly and sat back down again. Katara could see the tense air of his folded arms and legs, leaving what was left in his bowl to go cold while he pouted and stared stubbornly at the floor. Katara knew he’d do it though. Her brother had never been able to act out against their father, not with that desire to please, even if he wasn’t happy about it.

Hakoda ended their conversation and left the confined hut soon after, citing that he would be getting ready to head out. It seemed too soon, but there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. And, in reality, in eyes of the siblings, their father couldn’t be beaten by anything. Not even a mysterious monster in the snow. So the two of them bundled down in their cots that night, the first time in many that the pair hadn’t stayed up for some watch duty. Or rather, for Sokka to stay on watch duty and Katara to accompany him, in keeping with their father’s wish to stay together. It was a rare thing, and the young girl tried to enjoy as best she could.

But before either of them could settle into sleep, another storm began outside. Sokka sat up a little, listening as a tone in the wind escalated to an unsettling howling. The wind came and went and finally eased in calmness.

It was the most ferocious storm they’d heard in quite some time, and after the roar it created in the dark sounded into the night, it took ages for either of them finally fall asleep.

It was still snowing harshly in the morning when Katara woke up, in spite of last night’s downpour, and the overcast sky was dull and worrisome. She left her brother to sleep in with a shake of her head, wrestled on her parka, and stood.

But before she could exit the hut, the girl almost stumbled over a pack left near the entrance, one she recognized as belonging to her father. A single, rough, leather-bound notebook had slipped out. Curious, Katara turned it over to find a title etched into the cover.

 

> _Beast of the Southern Wild._

“This is…about the…monster, isn’t it?” She said, her voice hushed, tentatively brushing her fingers across the title. Then, almost hesitantly, opened the first page to read the crinkled and stained pages.

 

> _‘Kya has left us._
> 
> _I don’t know what to do, how I could have prevented it. Even if I thought I could bring her back… Kya wouldn’t want that._
> 
> _The only thing I can do is find out as much as I can about these disappearances. And prevent the same terrible fate from happening to anyone else._
> 
> _(A log of missing people from all across various villages in the South is recorded across the pages. Everyone who were lost to this exact circumstance in the past decade have been written down, including a few of those who vanished before the war’s full effects that was passed through word of mouth.)_
> 
> _In the past, the South was a sprawling country, not a starved ruin. Even though the hunts upon us were greater in number, it hobbled us less. Now the enemy has found two fronts. I dug up part of a legend about the hunts from long ago that I’ve made a record of:_
> 
> _“A beast stalks the blood of the Southern Water Tribe, and with its existence, turning friend against friend, brother against brother, parent against child, washing all of us in a paranoia that turns our bones rotten._
> 
> _It knows us, intimately, it begins as a seed and growing into a true monster over time with every life we live. We sustain the beast of our homeland, we are its host. And we must be sacrificed for its hunger to abate._
> 
> _But the beast of the Wild is not without emotion._
> 
> _Some say that a deep, unfathomable shame dwells deep within it breast. That is why the creature only hunts those who are alone, who will not carry tales of its hideous visage to others. Others say that the beast is an executor, made to punish pride and foolhardy bravery, and slay those who would dare seek to conquer the elements alone. Whatever the case, our hunter never takes those to remain together.”_
> 
> _The tale has been used as a warning for children preaching togetherness, but it is real. And yet still, it is not the oldest legend, nor does it explain what “the beast” is._
> 
> _And yet, after so long searching, I do know what it is. I’m…finally able to face the truth._
> 
> _I saw it firsthand when the hunger took Kya._
> 
> _The beast is the Southern Water Tribe’s. I don’t know how it all started, only that only we can end it._
> 
> _But…I’m afraid to do it._
> 
> _(The next note is the last. The ink is darker and fresher, made less than a day ago.)_
> 
> _I’ve made a terrible mistake._
> 
> _I should’ve ended this years ago, when I first found out, now more people have been lost. I thought our children would be safe, that the hunger wouldn’t touch them. Spirits save my Soul._
> 
> _The rate of the huntings has increased. Its no longer safe to leave things this way._
> 
> _I’m going to find the…beast tomorrow and end things._
> 
> _Hopefully.’_

Katara closed the book slowly, her head spinning, then scooted over and shook Sokka awake. “Katara, what–?” He started to say, before she cut him off and pressed the notes into his hands.

“I found this in Dad’s things. I want you to read it.”

Sokka gave her a hard look, “Why were you snooping in Dad’s stuff?”

“Just read it!”

Sokka sighed and relented, dropping his gaze to the pages. But it didn’t take long for his expression to change into something dark and confused as he started to take in what he was reading. Sokka didn’t hesitate as long as she did over the list of names, the previous victims Hakoda marked down, but reread certain phrases over again with a furrowed brow. “Some of this phrasing is…odd…” He lingered over that for a few moments before Katara pushed him to move on and finish the rest. When Sokka closed the journal, quiet and thoughtful, Katara hanging over him and waiting for his word. When he finally spoke up, his words were hesitant, “I…don’t understand…”

His sister grabbed the journal back, his answer obviously displeasing her, “Well I do! Dad lied! He knew what that monster was this whole time and didn’t say anything about it!” Katara waved it through the air in frustration, her voice rising. “I’m not going to stand for it anymore. I’m going to talk to him and the answer out straight!” She got to her feet and made for the exit, journal almost buckling under her tight grip, Sokka hurriedly grabbing his clothes and following.

“Katara, wait. It might not be that simple; he might have had a good reason!” But the girl wasn’t listening to him any longer, stomping out of their home in search of their father. The snow was picking up again; it looked like another storm was well on its way, and most of the village had chosen to rush the morning chores in preparation so they could brace for it later in the day.

But they didn’t find Hakoda in the village.

Instead Kanna stood by the gate, watching into the white beyond with a dismal expression on her face. Despite the warm layers wrapped her, there was a chill to her, as though she had been waiting there for quite some time. It took a moment for Katara to see it, the tension in her grandmother’s body. The upset was all in the way. But when she did, the anger ebbed somewhat, giving way to worry. “Gran-Gran? Where’s dad? I need…need to talk to him.”

The old woman gave her a hurt look, hands clasped tight and shook her head, “He left early this morning…and hasn’t come back.”

The siblings’ eyes widened with shock. The thought of something happening to their father was a nearly unthinkable concept. He was too strong, too put together, for something to go wrong. But it didn’t take as long for Katara to jump into action once again.

She straightened up, shaking only a little, and made for the gate.

“Katara, what are you doing?!”

Two sets of voices called after her, but the young girl didn’t hear them. All she could think about was the knowledge she’d uncovered and the answer to years worth of hurt, compounded by the possibility of losing her father as well. Emotions running rampant, the only thing that would calm them would be action. She ran into the white, the snow kicking up more fiercely with every moment.

Kanna couldn’t follow. She was too worn to carry the pace of her grandchildren, and made even more tired by the time she’d spent outside.

Sokka paused only a moment to help her back to her feet, then turned on his heel and bolted after his sister. His grandmother’s warnings fell on deaf ears. He had always been warned: never walk the tundra alone, not for any reason. Katara was out there now alone. Even though he knew the direction Katara had ran, he couldn’t see her. The snow was heavy and blinding, kicked up by rising gusts of wind, as though trying to hobble him and slow his steps.

The instant he disappeared into the wild after her was the moment that the teetering balance of their lives came crumbling down.

 

* * *

_The hunter saw them, one after the other._

_Away into the white._

_It saw and it knew, that the time to move was finally at hand. A child with blue eyes ran into its domain. To their own frenzy. To their own peril._

_It was finally time to fulfill that age-old promise._

_The Beast started to hunt._

 

* * *

Sokka called out his sister’s name into the growing storm again and again, but to no avail.

No one answered him.

No one could hear him.

The wind was howling, rising and falling. Louder and louder.

The snow drifts were heavy and crunched loudly beneath his feet, leaving deep imprints behind, and yet those footprints would begin to fill soon after he left them. Snow piled in, quickly covering his tracks and did the same for his sister’s, making it harder and harder for him to follow her trail. Several times he lost the path, backtracking with adrenaline racing through him as he located it again.

The snowstorm was only getting worse with every moment that passed. The tracks faded faster the longer he searched. Sokka’s panic was crawling up his throat and churning in his stomach.

He didn’t believe in spirits, supernatural things. But he did see what little was left behind of the people they’d lost, how all of his efforts to prevent more deaths added up to nothing. The beast was flesh and blood, but it was still a beast. So seeing Katara vanishing into the white like that, the ghost of his dad’s words ringing in his ears (“protect your sister”) was terrifying in the worst way. He couldn’t lose her, not like anyone else.

He just couldn’t.

Something moved in the snow.

“Katara? If that’s you, you better come out right now…” His voice trailed off, protective urges warring with a budding paranoia. But when next he caught a glimpse of movement, he only saw white. No blue parka. No Katara. Whatever it was, it wasn’t her. Sokka jumped, his hand going for his club, the only weapon he’d managed to grab before leaving home. But now, he wished he’d gotten them all.

There was something else out there, with him.

He could feel it, the pressure of some other creature’s eyes on his form, the feeling of being watched. Sokka kept moving, drawing out his club and holding it tight at the ready, tension building in his limbs like taut rope. He’d been so worried about Katara, he hadn’t spared one moment of consideration for the possibility that he could be in just as much danger. The irritant of paranoia flared up then, the thought of ‘did I even see it at all’ and ‘you could just be seeing things - illusions.’ But Sokka couldn’t–wouldn’t–shrug it off.

The rushing snow flurries was a dense camouflage, hiding the presence of whatever stalked him and concealing their tracks as though they didn’t exist at all.

And, just for a moment as the howling reached a high-pitched cry and the gusts abated, Sokka realized with a cold certainty, ‘That’s not the wind.’

Suddenly forgetting the rapidly disappearing tracks at his feet, he spun around, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was following him. Hunting him. Brandishing his club, the young warrior turned himself around constantly trying to find it in the snow, but the shroud was too thick, too heavy to make anything out. Every now and then, a flash would startle at the edge of his vision, something moving in his periphery just as white as the surrounding tundra, nearly impossible to catch.

The wind was slowing starting to die down. Sokka was breathing faster, internally cursing himself for losing his cool, heart beating like a drum. He’d gotten completely turned around, every direction the same unending white snowfall, Katara’s footprints swallowed up into nonexistence. The dismal realization that he had no hope of finding her by following them almost distracted him from the hidden hunter in his midst. ‘Katara, why did you have to run off?’

He could hear it hunting beyond his sight, soft crunches in the snow, like footsteps. But he couldn’t tell from what direction it was coming from. The sound almost seeming to come from everywhere at once.

The panicked human instinct wanted to run, but Sokka knew better.

Never show your back to the wild. Never turn and bolt from the creatures of the South, or they will pounce upon your back and take you down.

He slid his feet backwards through the snow, moving slowly in the direction he hoped she had gone. And the crunching footsteps got louder, more erratic.

It was getting closer.

Sokka tried to pick up his pace, get away from whatever it was (it was the beast) and get somewhere safe (no one who goes missing ever comes back), but–unable to watch his feet–his heel was upset was a layer of frozen ice in the snow beneath him. He stumbled, losing sight of his surrounding for the precious few moments to clamber back to his feet. But that one moment’s loss of concentration was enough.

The wind was calm.

The snow had slowed.

And there was  _warm breathing_  on the back of his neck.

The faint puffs of air were warmer than the surrounding temperature and yet the sensation still sent rippling chills down Sokka’s spine. The realization was blunt and inescapable. Sokka almost froze, his mouth going dry with the knowledge that something was right behind him, and there he was, showing his back. Something like primal fear welled up in the pit of his gut.

That couldn’t be allowed to stand.

He was a warrior, he wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t dare to be afraid.

Sokka’s mitten-clad fingers tightened harshly around the handle of his weapon, and–without giving himself the opportunity to second-guess, to hesitate–turned to swing the club in a wide arc at the beast at his back.

He only caught a moment’s time to look at it. The beast towered over him, hulking, larger than any polar bear dog. Its body was wispy, white fur that seemed to blend seamlessly into the snowy air around them, and uncomfortably close to looking intangible. Two bright blue eyes sat up on that long snout, unnaturally glowing like phosphorus crystals, pupils so pale as to be nearly white. Sokka didn’t get the chance to take it to take it all in, to process it.

Because as his blind swing of the club neared the beast, one of its paws lashed out almost casually, and batted his arm away. The next strike caught him across the back of the head, jarring his senses and scrambling his thoughts, sending the boy plummeting face first into the snow. Darkness was gathering at the edges of his vision. He was going to pass out.

“N-no… not like this…” Sokka couldn’t rise. His fading consciousness was giving out on him. He pushed his palms into the ground to try to get up, but it did nothing to help.

Sokka faded, blackness descending over him, his club slipping out of his lax hand. 

The last thing he felt before falling unconscious completely was the pressure of heavy fangs sinking into the soft hood of his parka, and his feet sliding across the snow and he was dragged away.

* * *

Katara didn’t think of why the snowfall suddenly leveled out, if only that it coincided with dulling of the headache she was carrying and the arrival of a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She looked over her shoulder, but no one was there.

The girl realized that she had thought that her brother would follow, though she didn’t see him. The wind was loud, but–from her perspective–not unnaturally so. She couldn’t imagine that his voice wouldn’t carry far enough to reach her.

Unless he was mad at her for doubting their dad. But it wasn’t as though Katara was left with much choice in the matter! In the very best case scenario, he has still lied to them. And that stung hard.

With the storm lifting, Katara could see the glacier walls to the east, rising tall and proud above the tundra. A distinctive ice face that had been scrawled into the journal she still carried. A remembered location for the investigations within the pages, and–more than likely–her father’s destination. But she never got that far.

Because before Katara could reach them, a collapsed figure in the path ahead of her blocked her way, and a fallen spear was dropped nearby. The heavy blue parka and long hair was distinctive enough for the girl to recognize him immediately, feet kicking into a run. “Dad!” She slid to stop next to him and crouched down in worry, pulling back the fur lining his collar to check for chill. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Hakoda had been out in the open elements for very long, and–judging by his direction–had been in the process of returning to the village. He must have already gone to the cliffs. Maybe having already slain the beast and the exhaustion caught up with him. Though…he didn’t look like he was hurt anywhere either. “Dad, wake up, it’s not safe out here!”

She jostled him until he started to stir, coming back to awareness. Hakoda stared at her for a moment, before alertness shot through his gaze, “Katara? What are you doing here by yourself?”

“I found this,” Katara pulled out the journal and showed it to him, and their expressions both darkened as if in sync. “Why did you keep this from us? Did you not…trust us?”

“No, it’s not that…” Hakoda took the book and rose to his feet, Katara supporting them if they made their way back. She gave him an intense look and he sighed, looking away with a painful emotion passing across his face. “We hoped we could hide this forever, but we should have known it wouldn’t work out that way,” The girl’s brows furrowed at the use of the word ‘we’ but let him continue. “I found the origin of our plight, if only to confirm what I already knew. The being that’s originally responsible for the state of our people being…hunted is a hubris we couldn’t control.

“Long ago, one of our people made a pact with an ancient spirit, a Lord of the Wild we called Amaguq, in a bid to become a stronger and more skilled hunter than all of his cousins. The spirit shattered his weaknesses one by one, only to replace it with his own strength, fulfilling the hunter’s wish at the expense of his mortality. With so much power, he was compelled to use it, until the instinct overpowered him. Until he was just a beast. The Spirit made him Amarok, our solitary hunter, preying on our spirits.” Hakoda trailed off, shaking his head, “…The Southern Water Tribe carries that hunter’s blood in their veins, and–once in every blue moon–someone among us is born doomed to change and eventually carry that same urge to kill.”

Hakoda looked down at his daughter, who was deep in the throes of trying to process what he’d just thrown at her. Even then though, that her father would have left things like this for so long still seemed…wrong somehow. “Then…whatever was attacking us is one of our people?”

The words she’d read out of his journal made more sense now. Katara almost wanted to ask if he knew who the Amorak was personally, but somehow the thought was too frightening to broach. “Then, this was happened to lots of people? And…there’s no way to cure them?”

Hakoda shook his head slowly, “If the Avatar were here, we might be able to do something about it…maybe, being the Bridge. But as of now, no. They change, and become an Amorak. And then when their true nature is revealed, we have no choice but to turn on them, or be hunted.” Katara recalled clearly the line in her father’s journal talking about the beast’s existence turning friends and family against each other. This was what it meant. “This is why I didn’t want to involve you in this, you or your–” He froze, staring at Katara in a new, horrified light. “Katara, where is your brother? Why isn’t he with you?”

She paused only a moment before speaking up, “I…I ran out without him. Sorry, I know you didn’t want us to split up, but when I found the journal–”

“No Katara, I made him promise to stay with you. Sokka would have have followed…” Suddenly he froze, turning around and facing back toward the cliffs, worry bright and clear in his eyes. “And…and the lair was empty…”

“What do you mean, empty? I thought you defeated it…”

“No, the Amorak wasn’t there, and something struck a blow on me from behind… Which means…” Hakoda straightened up, hand tightening on the spear at his side, “Which means that he’s in danger right now!” The realization shot through both of them as cold as ice. Katara didn’t think he’d come after her, but if she was wrong, and Sokka was hurt because of that… But she didn’t have time to think about it, because her dad was already pulling her into a run, “Come on Katara, we’re heading back, before a target is put on his back! I’m not leaving you out here on your own, either.”

The storm was gone, but the white landscape was much more frightening to travel now, with the knowledge of what was hanging over it. Of what dwelled within it.

But the spirits were not smiling on them.

Katara didn’t find her brother rushing to meet them, nor did they return to the village gates.

Instead they found his abandoned club, dusted with fallen snow. Hakoda found it there, and his heart filled with heaviness and dread, fear of the worst case he’d hoped would never come to pass. The Amorak had targeted his child.

He could only hope that they weren’t too late, and that she hadn’t hurt him.

 

* * *

Sokka was warm.

Dazed and out of sorts, he vaguely recognized the softness of furs piled up around him, a dense blanket that was driving out the chill in his bones. A bundled up parka was placed under his head as a cushion, and was just aware enough to realize it was his own. It was like the worst days of winter, when he and Katara huddled indoors to stave it off with skins that dad had spent all fall preparing for them. There was a scent in the air he couldn’t quite place, only that it felt familiar and nostalgic.

But his pounding head was a distraction from all of that. The ache kept him grounded, weak. Despite having just woken up, the exhaustion kept him immobile, and couldn’t even open his eyes enough to see more than blurry darkness. An indistinct ice cave ceiling spanned above him, several tunnels extended around him, and candle flames flickered nearby. His hair was undone, falling into his face. Sokka was uncomfortably woozy, but at the very least, thought that the injury he took hadn’t been enough to give him a concussion.

So he didn’t immediately remember what happened to land him here, but when that knowledge came rushing back in force, it still didn’t give him the necessary energy to prop himself up.

Sokka didn’t understand why he was comfortable, and warm. Why he was alive.

What his instinct was telling him was that he needed to get up and  _go_ , now. But he couldn’t move. The exhaustion was too strong.

It was then that Sokka heard the sounds of someone (or something) else, moving around nearby, faint sounded of soft boots sliding against the ground. A vague figure moved around at the corner of his vision, shifting things around before starting towards him. Sokka stiffened without realizing it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t defend himself and now…! He turned his face away, expecting to be attacked at any moment.

Instead, a gentle hand was laid on his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” A woman’s voice spoke, calm and cool, tender as the touch on his face. “It’s so hard to stop the instincts, but I have no excuse for hurting you.” She took a seat next to him on the floor, long brown hair spilling over her shoulders in straight falls, “I must have given you quite a scare out there. I won’t harm you anymore, I promise.”

Out there. Out in the snow. She…she couldn’t be talking about the beast…could she?

But she was apologizing for no one but herself. And that…couldn’t be possible.

Sokka had wondered at the intelligence of the beast before; it didn’t behave the way any kind of wild predator should. But there was no way it was an actual person, right? He jolted out of his thoughts when the woman laid a cool cloth on his head, soothing against the headache. Sokka was getting sleepy again, his body getting ready to doze off. He shouldn’t have, not here. But for some reason, Sokka felt safe, and didn’t know why.

After some effort, fading, he managed to speak, “Who are you?”

The woman leaned closer, and for the first time Sokka could see her clearly. And she was so familiar it hurt. Because he knew her, but he wasn’t sure…

“You don’t remember. I don’t blame you; I’ve been gone a long time.” A sad smile crossed her face, “Too long. But that’s over now.

Listen to me Sokka, before you go back to sleep, and I’ll tell you… I know you, and you know me, even if you don’t remember. And I’ve missed you and your sister every day since the moment I left. I only hope that one day you can forgive me for going away. My name is Kya, and I’m your mother. ”

 

* * *

Sokka faded out, falling back into slumber. It was too much for him to process at once.

Kya suspected that would be the case, and she wished they could have reunited under different circumstances, would that she had a choice. So she simply shifted back to better adjust the furs covering his body. Made him as comfortable as possible.

It had been so long since she had seen him, but Kya knew. A mother should always know her children, no matter how much time passes, or how much they changed. And Sokka had changed. He was older now, stronger and taller, who carried more responsibility than he ever had. She wondered how often he trained, if if he was just as protective as she remembered, if he had mastered the arc of his boomerang yet. Granted, this wasn’t the first time she’d seen her son since she had left, but caught glances across the snow at her children–the most Kya dared herself to take–weren’t (and never could be) enough to sate.

But merely missing him wasn’t the reason why Kya brought Sokka here. She’d suffer her family’s absence forever if it meant protecting them from harm, but she didn’t have a choice anymore. And when the rare occurrence of him leaving the village alone was enough to get her moving. Kya trembled under the guilt of attacking; there was only so much control over herself she had while like…that, and was only trying to disarm and stop him from running.

But that was far from an acceptable excuse.

Kya would sit down with him and explain everything his parents had chosen to omit, bit by bit, including what even Hakoda didn’t know. Leave no secret unturned.

Sokka deserved that much.

But not now.

Hakoda had been here, very recently as well. She could smell it in the air, clear as a memory, what he’d touched and where his feet had walked. He had sworn that he’d never come back here a long time ago, except under one condition, and would certainly come back soon the moment he realized Sokka was missing. Sooner or later.

Kya got ready for him, leaving the far chamber where Sokka was sequestered, so that he could rest in peace. Hakoda might be mad at her, and she was wary of that possibility. He was a calm, controlled man who rarely ever raised his voice in aggression (let alone to her), but even the tolerant had their limits. Kya didn’t want the noise of that to disturb Sokka’s sleep. So she waited near the entrance of her desolate ‘lair,’ seating herself on a fur pallet patiently.

Kya smelled him before she saw him, scent carried over the wind, before he stepped into the tunnels that led to her domain. The ‘other side’ of her became coldly alert at that, but Kya smothered it forcefully, pushed down the hunger like so many times before. Turning a blind eye to ~~prey~~ a human walking into her lair was harsher and more taxing than resisting the Hunt, but she managed. Katara’s scent lingered on him too, recent; that smell whose temptation was easier to ignore. She opened her eyes and looked up the moment he entered, spear in his hands, with the grim countenance of someone on the way to an execution. Hers if his worries and suspicions were proven to be correct. Fear for carrying out what he avoided so long ago. “Where is Sokka?”

“He’s sleeping. Don’t wake him up yet, please,” Kya implored, rising to her feet.

Hakoda’s face registered surprise before his expression softened and he loosened his grip on his spear somewhat. “He’s alright…?” He asked, almost desperately.

“He’ll be fine, I promise,” Kya said, stepping aside to let him pass as the man moved further into the cave. And she had every intention of showing him just that.

But he interrupted her before they could get that far, “Kya, there have been more killings. Lost people over the time I was away, and Kanna can’t be convinced to ignore them any longer. Nor can I. That was…the original reason why I came here.” He shifted his weapon, uneasy.

“…More? Hakoda, I haven’t touched another human being in years, not since the first year that I cast myself out,” The warrior froze, staring at her in surprise. “I learned to suppress the instincts, even if it hurts. And I remember every moment of stepping out on the ice in that skin.” It hadn’t been easy. Kya held images of wild prey in her mind, and with extraordinary patience and effort, trained the Hunt’s urge out of her. At least enough that she could hold it at bay. “I swear to you, on our family’s safety, I have killed no one since that time.”

Hakoda looked away, still too tense to relax, “If not you, then who? The victims…their cases match what we’ve been trained to search for… I came here, fearing for his life after hearing of the people we lost…”

Kya didn’t know how to answer him, because she knew exactly the cause. The worst case scenario. Something that she had hoped to prevent, and now knew she was too late. “I know you’re upset with me, but I needed to see him. It was more important than anything else.”

“Kya…” Hakoda paused at the entrance of the next room, his expression obtaining a pained confliction that she had always hated to see. Even now, after everything, after leaving. And the emotion in it distracted her enough that Kya was no longer paying attention to their surroundings enough to scent the presence of someone else entering the lair. The warrior continued regardless, “It was…your idea to split us apart like this, to divide us. It hurt, but I could admit it was the only option to protect our children. Even if you never saw them, you convinced me. So…why are you changing things now? Seeking out Sokka, that doesn’t endanger him? And then there’s the matter of–” He cut himself off when Kya held up a hand, a sad look on her face.

She beckoned him slowly into the next chamber, “Because things changed.” Kya showed him where their son slept, but threw out her arm to stop him from getting any closer.

“Kya? Why?”

“Do you remember, when we first found out about Katara’s waterbending?” Hakoda was watching her like a hawk, a dim understanding budding in his eyes, but not quite there yet. “Your mother came from the North, and since we heard so much about how many benders they had there, we thought her power came from there. We thought the power passed over Kanna and you, but suspected that it was your line of blood that made Katara a waterbender.”

Kya looked over at him, saw that the man she loved had a dull horror building in his gaze. His shook his head slightly, unable to speak.

“When Sokka was young, you told me you saw parts of me in him…I didn’t really believe you at first. Not for my little warrior…” Kya took in a shaky breath before continuing, her voice beginning to waver. “But not too long ago, I realized that you were right. Sokka does take after me, but in all the worst ways,” She stared at boy lying prone among the bedding, as if hoping that she could will all the misfortune away. “He has a monster inside him, just like me.”

“He’s…an Amorak?”

Kya’s expression remained grave, but her head tilted curiously. “Is that the word for us? I never found out the whole legend, even though I can hear the Hunt whispering. And I can sense it in Sokka too. I tried to contact him sooner, I didn’t think he would start to turn this quickly, but if there have already been victims, then I was too late.”

“That…that can’t be true…” He was destroyed. Years ago, Hakoda had torn himself apart trying to find a way that Kya wouldn’t have to leave, but even his mind couldn’t create the perfect answer. And now history was repeating itself with Sokka.

But she couldn’t afford to hold back. Not when going back would put their son in so much danger. “I don’t want it to be true, Hakoda!” Kya barely kept her voice hushed, strain building in her tone, “I don’t want that hurt for him. I don’t want him to wake up and discover that there’s blood on his hands!” Kya took a breath, backing out of the room slowly and drawing them back into the main chamber so she didn’t have to whisper. “I can smell it, inside him. He’s growing stronger even when he can’t control himself yet. But the Hunt won’t direct him to me, not when we’re the same. You said that I endangered him, but the fact is, Hakoda, is that he’s the only one who safe around me. And I around him.”

And there, that, kicked what was left of the fight out of him. “You want me to give him up.”

Kya closed her eyes, guilt washing over her, “I’m sorry.”

“No!” The interruption of a third voice startled both of them into alertness, turning to see a young girl running into view. Katara, who had just gotten through eavesdropping on the both of them, whose promise to stay outside only skin deep, and her face was flushed red with upset. She ignored the worried whisper of ‘she shouldn’t be here,’ breathing hard and ready to shout. “I thought–I thought you were dead, mom! We both did, it’s why I tried so hard to find the truth in the first place! T-this whole time, you were keeping secrets. And now I have to lose my brother too?”

The emotional fallout was inevitable. After being left with nothing but an empty gap where her mother was for so long, the have her presence brought back only to lose another family member was downright unbearable. Kya uncomfortably wondered, if she had found out what her son was long ago, before it had gotten so far, would have been more or less cruel to Katara.

It was a horrible thing to think about.

Kya moved over to kneel before her daughter to look into her eyes before the girl broke down, “Katara, I never wanted to hide any of this, but it was the only way to protect the people I cared about, the people I love. I’m so sorry about all the hurt I put all of you through, no matter the reason. I’m so afraid of how Sokka will react, but I would never want him to find out too late, when warriors rally against him. Even we can’t take that…I, I want to save his life.” Kya wanted to reach out and grip her shoulders to comfort her, or wrap her arms around her, but with urge pounding at the presence of two humans in her lair, it was too much to tempt fate. It tore her apart. Like the Amorak itself–an unpredictable fusion of mortal and spiritual entity–Kya was torn between the desire to soothe her family’s pain, and step away for their own protection. And she couldn’t have both at the same time.

Nevertheless, she had to keep going. “As time passes, people like us–the ‘Amorak’ as your father said–start to become aware of what we’re doing when we walk as the beast, like…dreaming. We leave behind what clues we can, as much as we can try under the instincts, that it’s us, and…eventually push back the urge. But by the time that happens, it may already be too late.”

Katara didn’t want to believe a word of it. But even now, little things she ignored–that didn’t seem important at the time–were jumping out at her. How often Sokka woke up exhausted, his complaints of hunger that peaked on the nights before another attack, how the snow wall kept being knocked outward–as though something big came charging through it out of the village. And then, worst of all, how old man Koto’s parka was stuffed inside a trap that nobody but her and Sokka should know about.

Sokka was right about that last one in the worst way, she realized. The beast had wanted them to find it. Sokka wanted them to find him, to stop him. Even if he didn’t know it.

Katara wanted to talk to him, to tell herself that this was all a bad dream.

But she couldn’t wake up from this.

It was then that the silent air was shattered by an eerie howl that echoed through the cavern, causing all three of them to stagger in place. The wind was picking up, blowing in through the entrance furiously, and with it, a new downpour of snow.

“No, not so soon!” Kya jumped to her feet, running back to the bedding she’d laid down, finding it mussed and empty. Sokka had long since vanished down one of the adjacent tunnels, and it wouldn’t be long before he found his way out of the network onto the tundra. He was panicked, instincts running wild in lieu of an explanation. She should have been there when he woke up, to calm him down. “Hakoda, you and Katara need to go back to the village as soon as possible. Get everyone together as fast as you can!”

“Wait, what are you going to do?”

Kya straightened up and walked to the entrance of the cave with determination set in her gaze, “I’m the only one who can rein him, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Kya stepped out, into the snow, and in another moment the falling snow swallowed her up and she was gone.

 

* * *

_It hurts. It hurts._

_Like claws raking down his spine. Jaws on his neck. He was hungry and he needed to sate it; it wiped out anything else from his mind._

_He just wanted it to stop. He wanted to stop. He wanted someone to stop him feeling this way._

_For so long that was all he could understand. The sensation of hunger, and the scent of those he had to chase. It was a predictable, understandable drive. Tear a man’s spirit from his body and feed upon it, leave behind their clothing as a warning, then send his lifeless remains to to the icy sea. Simple._

_But recently, there was a new scent he couldn’t understand._

_Like wind, it slipped away the moment he tried to catch hold of it. Like his own awareness. It scared him because there was understanding in it, as familiar as his own skin. He knew that if he followed that scent, he’d discover something horrible, about himself, and about everything._

_It was frightening, and he just wanted to sate himself. He just wanted relief._

_He ran, the snow and wind wrapped around him, speeding his steps. He would eat and the pain would stop, just for a while, so he could sleep._

_But when he reached the place-where-he-hunted, there was a thing like him there, chasing after him. It knew who he was._

_Part of him felt relief. Part of him wanted this to end._

_But the rest was a cornered animal, wild with an uncontrollable hunger and frightened instinct. And everyone knows what happens with a cornered animal._

_They bite back._

* * *

The people of the Southern Water Tribe were a hardy people, born and bred in a land that tested the limit of one’s survival skills, but even they had been severely threatened by the existence of the beast that hunted them.

And now, they witnessed two of them in the same instance.

The storm had started suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, and the townspeople were given no time to prepare for it. What at one point sounded like howls of the wind quickly became something more. Panic abounded, of something coming through the storm.

Especially for Kanna, who had to deal with the fact that her entire family had disappeared into the tundra with no sign of returning. She was one of the only people, next to Hakoda, who knew the true story of what had happened to Kya, and now it felt too much like her family was destroying itself bit by bit.

So when she picked out the sound of a howl amid the wind, she had a horrified suspicion of what it might be. The snow sped up, and beyond it, somewhere in the distance, Kanna could barely pick out the shape of something white. Huge and moving rapidly, it hurtled in their direction.

They didn’t even see the second shape.

The moment the beastly shape breached the village outskirts, something else crashed into it with the force of a monstrous wave, forcing the beast to the side.

Everyone could see it, both of them staring each other down with luminous eyes. They were next to identical in form, white from toe to tip, with wispy pale coats of fur that blended into the air as though they were incorporeal instead of physical beings. Their very presence was unsettling and incomprehensible, like seeing something that shouldn’t physically exist. The only noticeable difference between them was that one of the beasts was slightly smaller than the other, eyes wide above its slavering jaw. There was only a brief moment of stark silence before the stalemate was broken. The wilder beast lunged at the other, howling; although the noises it made were hauntingly human, almost like screams. The noise echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once, muted and resounding, like caught inside a bottle.

In the middle of all of this, the distraction of the fight had given Hakoda and Katara enough time to come rushing back into the village, much to the crowd’s gathered relief, and hurriedly tried to lead them away from the fight. “Stay inside and stay together! Everything’s going to be fine!” But at the same time, in the thoughts of both father and daughter was echoed the sentiment, ‘I hope.’ Clawing like animals, it was hard to see the human underneath them, even if they knew it was there.

The two of them worked to herd the villagers into the largest igloo on the far side, hopefully far enough away while the Amorak were kept busy.

But it wasn’t long until the situation completely deteriorated.

Kya’s hesitation drained her, and the next time she was struck, falling away. Her body contorted and the Amorak’s skin ripped itself apart, making a sound like tearing paper, leaving only her human form in its place. Chest heaving, exhausted, she couldn’t fight anymore. She was deemed to be no further threat and was summarily ignored.

Even as she was dragging herself to her feet, the feral instincts of the tribesman-turned-beast had not ceased, had not slowed. In motion again, he turned away from Kya in a whirl, unnatural eyes fixed on the only two remaining humans within its line of sight. His father and sister.

Hakoda met his with a spear at the ready, yelling at Katara to go, to run.

His distraction cost him badly. The Amorak shied away from his blade, circled around and bodychecked him hard, sending the warrior tumbling to the ground. Hakoda weezed, grasping at his bruised ribs, struggling to rise even as part of him was aware he wouldn’t make it in time.

Katara stared, and the humble ball of water she’d summoned in an attempt to help fell apart at her feet the moment her father collapsed. She couldn’t move. Her heartbeat was pounding like rapid-fire, frozen in place as the beast’s eyes turned on her, every second seeming to take an age to move to the next. Katara couldn’t even experience the sensation of fear. That wasn’t a beast. That was her  _brother._

He was getting closer with every moment and all Katara could think was…

_His eyes are so blue…_

If it weren’t for the force that shoved her to the ground at the last moment, those would have been her last thoughts.

.

Katara did not feel the touch of the Amorak’s fangs that day, but someone else did.

Kya stood over her daughter, hunched over in pain, one arm submerged up to the shoulder inside of the beast’s massive maw. Her free hand gripped at the wispy mane behind one of his long ears as much as she could. He was barely tangible, solid and painful when the urge presented itself, but otherwise the Amorak’s fur was almost as insubstantial as water. It slipped through and around the hold of her hand, but still Kya persisted.

She held on despite the massive canines piercing deeply into her shoulder. Where they dug into Kya’s skin, frost gathered, and she bled white, her very spirit crying out in pain.

If he were a more corporeal creature, he would have torn her shoulder free from her body.

But he didn’t.

The moment his jaws pierced her, he ceased to move, pinning Kya in placed with only inaction. Not even reacting when Hakoda managed to get to his feet and limped over to her side, slowly easing Katara off of the ground. “Kya, are you…”

“S-shhh, don’t spook him,” Kya pleaded, trying her best to remain calm despite the pain cascading throughout her body. Even now, those great, pale blue eyes were slowly widening with a dawning awareness. Shock. The inhumanity in Kya’s blood startled him, destabilizing the animalistic instincts that were so consuming him only moments before. Even now, he was beginning to shake, unintentionally bringing more pain to her through the rattling of his fangs. “Shhhh…it’s okay. I’m okay.” Kya tightened her hold instead of letting go, leaning forward to press her forehead against the length of his there-and-not snout.

In that moment, for them, the rest of the world didn’t exist. The four of them didn’t pay attention to how the villagers were watching from their homes, or how the wind and falling snow had ceased abruptly. It was all just background static. The air was utterly silent and still, as if the whole South was waiting on bated breath for their next move.

For the next few minutes, they waited. Kya whispered her assurances almost constantly, gentle as can be, breathing in slow and deep to smother her pain. Her uninjured arm slid down to wind around his jaw, the closest thing Kya could manage to a hug in her position and in taking into account the Amorak’s bulk. “You’re going to be alright, and so am I. I’m not mad, I could never be mad at you,” Kya took a slow, steadying breath. Her voice was just a little watery. “Even if you don’t remember, no matter what it made you do, I will always love you. No matter what.”

That seemed to be the final breaking point. After those words were spoken, the beast form finally fell away without ceremony, crumbling into nothingness. Left where it once stood was Sokka, staring at his hands lying open in his lap. “Mom…?” Uncertain, as if still piecing together the I remember the emotions of who she really was, “I remember…” He said, devastated, looking up at his family one by one, threatened to be buried under a tide of memories made him sick to his stomach. “It was me… It was me the whole time, and I never even–” The moment Sokka’s gaze settled on Katara however, he had to quickly look away before seeing what he was sure would be fear in her eyes. Katara wasn’t supposed to be afraid of him; Sokka couldn’t take that. He was lost, eyes swimming with encroaching and irrepressible guilt, a horrifying feeling of what could’ve been–what he had been about to do. 

Knowing full-well how he felt, Kya’s arms encircled him without hesitation, her worried frown morphing into a protective one the moment she looked up, seeing the tribesmen gathered on the edge of the village.

They had seen everything.

Kanna was closest to them, as the only one in the village besides Hakoda who had known what had happened to Kya all along, and she was the first to understand what this revelation meant. Or, at least, the first to understand that there was nothing they could do.

Though he was young, the people of the South had trusted Sokka to do his utmost to look after them in his father’s stead as much as he was able. He hunted, he trained, he built walls for them to take shelter behind. Even if his skills were no more than a facade to make himself seem stronger than he was, it was earnest and true. But now… Sokka wasn’t safe anymore. He couldn’t do those things for them anymore and even linger too close, not when he was so susceptible to that voracious hunger. Not when he could kill. Not when he  _had_  killed.

Being there was too much a strain on the senses, feeding the Hunger. It was too much of a risk, even for Kya, who learned how to stave off the instincts and fought in their stead.

So when his grandmother’s stare made contact with his own, Sokka knew what he had to do.

“I have to leave.”

 

* * *

Sokka and Kya waited on the outskirts of the place they had both called home, before the truth of what they were became apparent, prepared to give it a hesitant goodbye.

Most of the village had stayed away, filtering back into their homes or watching from afar. Sokka didn’t blame them. He’d caused enough trouble, hurt enough people, for them not to want anything to do with him. He was going elsewhere, with his mother.

Strange.

Up until recently, he barely even remembered her, let alone knew that she was still alive, and now the two of them shared a fate of cursed exiles. Even if nobody took up arms to drive them out, Sokka knew what was happening clearly. And he couldn’t stay, neither of them could. If Sokka couldn’t protect the village the way a warrior should, then he’d protect it by going away. Kya (mom) must have felt the same way. She could teach him how to repress the desire to hunt, to push the beast down. But it would never be completely gone.

Kya blamed herself for the unusual circumstances of his birth, of being an “Amorak.” But he couldn’t–wouldn’t–be mad at her, not after everything he’d done.

And just being around her was calming, safe. It set his racing mind at ease.

Kanna, Hakoda, and Katara wouldn’t let them leave without a proper goodbye though.

The tired elder had given her grandson a sad look only for a moment before she produced a pack bulging with food and spare clothes. (Sokka would realize much later that Kanna of all people, with her age and forethought, must have worried the most that she would never see him again.) “Always remember home, my brave warrior,” She murmured, stepping away silently. She still considered him a warrior?

Hakoda pressed a hide-wrapped package into Sokka’s hands, inside which was his weaponry, “just in case of some good old fashioned hunting.” But for the first time, much to the shock and worry of his son, the Chief seemed to be on the verge of breaking. His hand was shaking when he reached over to dare to grip Sokka’s shoulder, telling him that even this couldn’t stop him from being proud. Then Hakoda stepped to the side, and moved forward to say his goodbyes to Kya, hurting from the sensation of history repeating itself.

Lastly…

Sokka felt helpless facing down his sister, he always did. Sometimes it was knowing he would never be able to out-argue her, or the jealousy of that specialness he tried to ignore. But this time, it was knowing how close he came to losing her.

Katara didn’t hold anything physical for him. Instead, through shaking nerves, she told him to look after himself. “I-I can’t fix your things for you anymore, Sokka,” His sister drew in a watery breath, “You’re gonna have to help mom and learn…” She cut herself with a sniff, and then–before Sokka even had the time to react–Katara jumped forward and dragged him into a bone-creaking hug. Sokka only registered the wetness of his cheeks after seeing her tears. “I don’t want you to go…”

He hesitated, unable to move away. “Katara, please, I don’t want to–”

“You won’t hurt me, I know. You made a promise. You’re still…you’re still my brother.”

The force of her declaration brought him to silence. Sokka didn’t react at first, only stared back over her shoulder. But slowly, as her arms pinned him in place, he reached over and returned the hug. Softly at first, then with force to equal her own. But, eventually, he had to let go.

He didn’t need to be reminded that nothing less than this curse could have ever torn him away.

Their next destination lay across the tundra, into the snow.

 

* * *

Katara lost her mother years ago to a curse that consumed her very humanity.

It took a long time, but she learned how to deal with the hurt.

Now, her brother was gone for the very same reason.

But it wasn’t hopelessness that controlled her now. Katara looked out over the plains where her two family members had disappeared, and felt her fists clenching in a determination that even this tragedy couldn’t flush out.

Without even realizing it, her father had given her the answer. The Avatar could save them, they were the Bridge between worlds. The Avatar could speak to the Spirit that cursed their blood, and convince it to let them go.

Her mom and her brother weren’t gone.

She refused to accept that.

Katara had absolute certainty, borne out of her hope and hurt. She was going to find the Avatar and save them. She was going to get her family back.

No matter how long it took.

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! This one could easily have a sequel in the making, but for now its done!  
> \-- -- --
> 
>  
> 
> *Amaguq: A trickster wolf God in Inuit mythology. Associated with predators and destruction and in some circles considered both a symbol of the warrior and the devil. 
> 
> *Amarok (Amaroq): A gigantic, solitary wolf that stalks and devours anyone who hunts alone.  
> Due to the variation in translations, some legends of the Amarok have been combined with that of Amaguq


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